Ultimatums
by Kuria Dalmatia
Summary: Collaboration with CMAli! "I've already told him, Rossi. This is it. This is the last straw." For 6 years, Hotch and Reid have kept their relationship quiet. Reid decides it's been too long. ADULT CONTENT.
1. Chapter 1: A Kiss isn't Just a Kiss

**Title:** Ultimatums 1/2: A Kiss isn't Just a Kiss  
**Author:** CMAli and Kuria Dalmatia  
**Rating/Warnings:** FRAO/NC-17 (profanity, adult content, sexual situations)  
**Characters/Pairing:** Hotch/Reid  
**Summary:** "I've already told him, Rossi. This is it. This is the last straw."  
**Word Count:** ~4,700

ARCHIVING: None.

Feedback always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. Salut! We just took them out to play and we promise put them back when we're done. We're not making any profit just trying to get these images out of our heads... and Capybara_Sun's.

VERSION: July/August 2010

THANKS TO: Miss_Bratt for the beta! Capybara_Sun for the dream she had that became this monster.

**Chapter One: A Kiss isn't Just a Kiss**

"I've already told him, Rossi. This is it. This is the last straw." Reid swallowed another large gulp of the fiery drink Dave had offered as he swayed in his spot and hiccuped. "I've had enough. Another drink, first, please."

The elder agent chuffed and refilled the scotch for the lightweight drinker. "I said 'kiss' him, not puke on him. Take it easy, son." Rossi was proud of Reid for even considering coming out at _this,_ the biggest of all internal get-together nights. _This_ was the FBI Christmas Gala for the D.C. division, and Dave was pretty sure this would get Spencer the attention he wanted from Aaron.

And everyone else, for that matter. 

Spencer had given Aaron an ultimatum to tell the team about their relationship by today or he would. Reid was tired of hiding his emotions behind light brushes and the quickest of glances; he was ready for some hardcore _accidental _gropes and intense _unintentional _stares. Rossi convinced Spencer it would be good for Aaron to come clean completely—for the team, for the FBI, and for gay men everywhere. Of course, then David proceeded to laugh hysterically after hiding in a stall in the men's restroom. 

"Spencer!" 

"WHAT!" Reid jumped six inches into the air before recognizing Dave's voice. "I'm sorry, what?" 

"He's there with Tomlinson. It's time, man. Go for it." Harry Tomlinson was the head of the Criminal Justice Division of the D.C. Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He was THE top dog in their department. 

Rossi was right. It was time. 

"_Sic per basium ego intereo_. Thus with a kiss, I die." He swallowed the last of his drink, steadied himself against Dave for a moment, and cleared his throat. He took a deep breath, blowing it out with confidence, straightened his tux jacket and black tie, and headed toward his destiny. Or doom… 

"Go get 'em, tiger!" Dave laughed. "He's gonna be looking for a job on Monday." Rossi chuckled quietly to himself and sipped on his bourbon. 

"What was _that_ all about?" 

"Hey, Emily." Dave pointed toward Spencer. "That? Oh, he just needed a little push in the right direction." 

"What did you do, David Rossi?" She slid her arm around his waist and pulled him close. "I swear, since you retired again, you've been determined to get us all in trouble." 

"Yeah." He placed a kiss on her temple and exhaled a breath full of love and admiration into her hair. David Rossi was content with his life, his wife. He wanted someone else to be as well. It was time for his old friend Aaron Hotchner to get his head out of his ass and use that hole for something productive. _Eww. Had he really just thought that?_

"Bourbon. Need more bourbon."

Stumbling across the floor, Dr. Reid decided that he would not speak a word, just kiss his lover and let the cards fall where they would. Oh, God. He swore he was going to throw up. 

"So South Carolina was able to extradite him, and we were able to get a full confession and conviction, thank God." Tomlinson was speaking as Spencer approached. 

"Ah, Spencer." Aaron motioned for Reid to come closer. "Harry, this is Spencer Reid, the genius profiler on my team. We wouldn't be complete without him." Reid continued looking at Aaron, creepily staring directly into his eyes and nowhere else. Chief Tomlinson reached out to shake Spencer's hand, but Reid completely ignored him as he swayed a bit in his shoes. Aaron placed both hands on Spencer's upper arms. 

"Reid?" His look of concern for Spencer was endearing as he continued to stare. "Reid, are you okay?" And as soon as the words cleared Aaron's lips, Reid's hands moved to Hotch's jaw and his lips to Aaron's lips and all time stopped. Their eyes locked, and Aaron's fingers gripped Spencer's arms so tight it hurt, but still Spencer hung on to the kiss. And though it was less then passionate, it became meaningful and Aaron's eyes showed he got it. And he was actually mortified because of it. 

He was finally able to overcome the shock and push Spencer away, causing him to stumble and fall back on his ass. Morgan, witnessing the entire event, ran to help Spencer up off the floor. He was dizzy and the room was spinning. The look on his face was pure anguish at Aaron's response and the chaos that subsequently ensued. Tomlinson was questioning Aaron, and Morgan was brushing off Spencer with Garcia trying to straighten his suit and grill him at the same time. 

"Morgan, I feel sick." He pulled away and began a quick journey to the restroom, but on his way Aaron caught him. 

"What the fuck was that?" 

"I'm sick, Aaron. Please let go." Reid's once confident voice had become weak and frail sounding. His arms were now wrapped around his center and his skin was tinged green.  
"Not until I get some…" 

"OH GOD!" Both Spencer's hands went to his face and Aaron watched, horrified as hazel eyes grew large and vomit seeped out between clenched fingers before Reid turned to run toward the front door. Aaron took after him. The rumors were now flying and Tomlinson found himself practically draped in Erin Strauss and her politically correct bullshit about fraternization policies.

God, Harry thought, I can't stand this old bitch. 

/**/

Aaron could hear Spencer retching in the snow bank alongside the parking lot. Unfortunately, he knew how much Spencer hated when Aaron would baby him when he was sick. His boyfriend would say it was infantilism and thus demeaning and emasculating him. All Aaron wanted was to take care of him. 

"Oh , god." Another retch and a splash of vomit into the snow, followed by several spitting noises and a couple of burps. 

"Spencer?" 

A weak "go away" greeted his call. 

"Please, Spence. Let me help you." Aaron was being a hypocrite, and he acknowledged it, but all he wanted was to get Reid home and take care of him at this point. "Please. You need help." 

"Not from a son-of-a-bitch like you, you selfish bastard." Another retch. Another spit. Another belch. But this time, a thump, crunch and grunt followed. "Shit… Ow." 

Aaron turned the corner in time to see Spencer kneeling on all fours in the snow where he'd lost his balance and couldn't find it in himself to rise back to his feet. Without permission, Aaron came to his rescue. One arm wrapped tightly around Spencer's waist, Hotchner guided him across the parking lot and into the Lexus awaiting them. 

Aaron opened the door, leaned back the seat and helped Spencer slide into the vehicle. Neither one would speak for quite some time. Aaron closed the door and Spencer abruptly passed out. 

"Agent Hotchner!" Harry Tomlinson had finally pried Strauss' talons from his eyeballs and found the two men he was seeking in the parking lot. Aaron's stomach rolled. "Agent Hotchner wait." 

"Yes, Sir, Capt. Tomlinson." 

"Agent. I understand from retired agent Rossi that the display from Dr. Reid in the ballroom was for MY benefit. Is that right?" Now Aaron's stomach was doing full-out somersaults. 

"Actually, Sir, I think it was for mine, as well." Tomlinson shifted on his feet. 

"How long have you two been partners, Agent Hotchner? 

"Sir, I'm not sure I understand…" Tomlinson would have no more lying from his agents. 

"Let's not be ridiculous, Agent Hotchner. How long have you and Dr. Reid been romantically involved?" 

"Six years, Sir." 

"I would have outed you long before now." Aaron's face fell and his mouth dropped at his superior's words. 

"Sir?" 

"If you were my boyfriend, I would have kicked your ass to the curb after the first year if you had treated me like that. Now, Agent Hotchner, get that partner of yours home and treat him with some of the respect I believe he has truly earned. There are no strict fraternization rules in the FBI that can't be worked around. You have my blessing, Agent Hotchner." 

Aaron couldn't keep from smiling larger than he ever had. "Thank you, Sir. Thank you so very much." 


	2. Chapter 2: A Dominate Respect

**Title:** Ultimatums 2/2: A Dominant Respect  
**Author:** CMAli and Kuria Dalmatia  
**Rating/Warnings:** FRAO/NC-17 (profanity, adult content, sexual situations)  
**Characters/Pairing:** Hotch/Reid  
**Summary:** "I've already told him, Rossi. This is it. This is the last straw."  
**Word Count:** ~4,700

ARCHIVING: None.

Feedback always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. Salut! We just took them out to play and we promise put them back when we're done. We're not making any profit just trying to get these images out of our heads... and Capybara_Sun's.

VERSION: July/August 2010

THANKS TO: Miss_Bratt for the beta! Capybara_Sun for the dream she had that became this monster.

**Chapter Two: A Dominate Respect**

His head _throbbed_. Spencer groaned. He pushed at the sheet and blanket covering him—how in the hell did he get into bed? The last thing he remembered was stumbling into the Lexus. Aaron wasn't that much of a dick to leave him sleeping in the car—and he managed to sit up. The body next to him rustled around a few moments, a firm hand patting where Spencer had been. Spencer pushed himself out of bed, swaying slightly and cursing under his breath. His name was being called out, but he pointedly ignored it as he stumbled toward the bathroom. 

God, he was an idiot. He should have known better, should have known how Mister Politically Correct would act in public. He wanted to shake his head in self-exasperation but knew better; the movement would only make his headache worse. So, once inside the bathroom, he pushed the door closed and locked it. He wrinkled his nose at the smell—a funky mix of sweat, vomit, and scotch—and shed his boxers and undershirt. 

The shower was lukewarm, but Spencer didn't care. Once finished, he dried off but didn't bother dressing. Instead, he fished four aspirin out of the bottle—a task trickier than it had any right to be—and washed them down with two large glasses of water. Hydration was the only thing that was going to really ease the hangover. 

Liquid courage sucked. 

He trudged back into the bedroom, annoyed that the bedside lamp was on and his lover was sitting up in bed, patiently waiting. 

"Spence—" 

"Don't talk to me," Spencer snapped and pulled back the covers. "It's all your fault." God, he sounded petulant, but he really didn't care. He crawled back into bed, turned on his side so his back was to Aaron, and pulled the sheets over his head. 

"I reacted badly—" 

"No shit, Sherlock," he groused. "I'm tired and hung over. Do you mind?" 

"I want to make it up to you." A warm hand settled on Spencer's shoulder. Even at oh-God-awful in the morning, Aaron could sound annoyingly earnest. 

Bastard. 

Spencer violently shrugged off the touch and pulled a pillow over his head. _I want to make it up to you._ Of course Aaron did. There were a lot of things Spencer could say right now, but he knew that Aaron wanted an argument. Aaron excelled at winning them and probably had his talking points all mapped out in his head. 

Well, there was more than one way to thwart those plans, but Spencer chose the most obnoxious one he could think of. "You know that butt plug that's in the gun safe?" 

Spencer and Aaron rarely used toys when they had sex, and when they did, it was always used on Spencer. The few ones that they did have, Aaron kept locked up in the large gun safe in the master closet, obviously paranoid that someone would stumble across them if they kept them someplace useful, like the nightstand. 

"Why don't you stick _that_ up your ass? You're a big enough asshole-it'll fit. And if we had a ball gag? I'd tell you to wear it, too." Spencer spat. "The only reason I'm _not_ suggesting the cock ring is because a man your age shouldn't wear it for more than thirty minutes." 

There was dead silence. Spencer smiled smugly to himself, knowing that he'd thoroughly embarrassed Aaron and scored a point on the sore spot of age. He wasn't in the mood to be charitable or nice. That little push last night had confirmed Spencer's worst fears: he was Aaron's dirty little secret. So he wasn't too surprised when he felt the man get out of bed or heard him walk over to the bathroom. 

"I'm sorry," Aaron said. 

"I don't care. I'm done talking to you." With that, Spencer forced himself to relax and he quickly returned to sleep. 

***/*** 

It was the smell of chicory coffee that woke Spencer up the second time. His headache had, thankfully, subsided which meant he'd misjudged the effect of the alcohol. 

_You puked it back up, remember?_

Oh, yes. The snow bank. 

Humiliation burned his cheeks. He'd made an ass of himself in front of the Team, most of the FBI, _Tomlinson_, and worst of all, _Strauss_. 

_Guess my transfer will be in my inbox_, he thought dismally. 

Spencer pried open his eyes, rubbing the grit away, and pushed away the pillow covering his head. There, on the nightstand, was a fresh cup of coffee. And Spencer _knew_ it would be sweetened just right. The chicory meant Aaron was making fried doughnuts, something he'd picked up from Will. He inhaled sharply and _there!_ He could just smell the tease of fried goodies. 

It was another one of Aaron's tactics: making one of Spencer's favorite treats as means to apologize. If only Aaron was as good a cook as his brother. 

"I will not be bribed with beignets!" Spencer called out sourly as he clambered out of bed and headed back to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and another shower, he grabbed the robe hanging on the back of the door. It was only then that he realized neat-freak Aaron had cleaned up after the last shower; Spencer's discarded clothing was nowhere to be found. He dumped the used towel on the floor because he knew that would push Aaron's buttons. Served the man right. 

Six. 

Years. 

When he opened the door leading back into the bedroom, he was surprised to find Aaron holding a breakfast tray and standing next to the bed. Dressed in a plain white undershirt and pale blue boxers—Aaron's usual sleepwear when Jack wasn't staying with them—the older man kept his gaze focused on the tray in front of him. 

"You're not going to win me over with that," Spencer informed him as he glanced at the offerings as he passed by Aaron. A half-glass of pulpy orange juice, four golden-brown pastries with a light dusting of powdered sugar, and a small dish of dark honey. He got back in bed, opting to remain sitting up. Just because he was pissed off didn't mean he was going to turn down coffee or fresh beignets.  
Aaron wordlessly placed the tray over Spencer's lap and moved the coffee mug from the nightstand to the tray. Then, he shuffled over to his side of the bed. Odd. Aaron's movements were a bit stiffer than usual and when the man sat down, he gasped a little. He shifted several times before finally sitting still. 

Spencer took a sip of his coffee. Perfectly made, of course, because Aaron in apology-mode meant everything would be spot-on. He narrowed his eyes at the other man, but Aaron refused to look up from the spot he was staring at on the bed. He still wanted an argument or at least an opening to plead his case. 

There was no way in hell Spencer was going to give Mister Former Prosecutor an opening.  
He ate in silence. Aaron, however, was restless. The man didn't move enough to disturb the breakfast tray, but obviously he was having trouble sitting still. 

_Good_, Spencer thought as he bit into the beignet. _He should be uncomfortable after what happened last night._ That was when he glanced up and noticed the door to the walk-in closet ajar. Aaron insisted on it being closed, because it was where the large gun safe was… 

Spencer nearly dropped the doughnut. He surreptitiously glanced over to Aaron who was still not-quite-comfortably sitting on the bed. He almost, _almost_ smiled. Which, of course, Aaron interpreted as his opening. "I want to talk…" 

"No." 

"You're being…" 

"Unreasonable?" Spencer cut him off knowing he was falling for Aaron's ploy. _Damn_. He finished the first beignet and started on the second because the rest of his sentence should have gone something like, _Unreasonable is you insisting that our relationship be kept quiet. Unreasonable is expecting our coworkers to respect the elephant in the room. Oh, sure, I may have agreed to keep it under wraps at first, because there was so much that could go wrong, but six __**years**__?_

He didn't. He dipped the confection in the honey and finished it in two bites, followed by drinking half of the juice. 

"You have every right…" 

"_Don't_," Spencer warned. 

Aaron heaved out a sigh. And squirmed again. 

"Something up your ass?" Spencer asked cheekily. He was expecting the patented Hotchner Glare, but was surprised to see the redness of the man's face and neck as the man averted his gaze. 

Interesting. 

Because there were very few things that could make the man blush that deeply. 

Spencer pushed the tray away and Aaron immediately got up, walked around to the opposite side (gingerly), and picked it up. Spencer watched with amusement (and a sudden erection) as his lover left the room. He leaned back on the pillows. 

Hmmmm…. 

He couldn't believe he was considering forgiveness so quickly, but his anger from last night had all but gone away as the rest of his logical mind caught up with the scattered facts from this morning. 

Aaron wasn't ranting about how the stunt last night had jeopardized their jobs. He wasn't going on about one of them being transferred or how childish Spencer had been. Not one word about Spencer getting plastered and then plastering a kiss on him right in front of one of the most powerful men in the Bureau. 

It wasn't…logical. There should have been some kind of fallout unless… Rossi wouldn't have outright encouraged him, wouldn't have practically _pushed_ him into Aaron's arms unless Tomlinson didn't have a problem with the whole "same-sex, fucking-my-superior" thing. Maybe Rossi had paved the way for them. 

He heard Aaron return. He glanced over, noting that the man still wouldn't look him directly in the eye. For Aaron to be this, well, _submissive_ meant that the man was feeling extraordinarily guilty about a lot of things. Normally, Spencer wouldn't push the issue, but for so long, he'd passively allowed Aaron to control the relationship. 

"Strip," Spencer ordered firm, yet softly. He slid out of bed but made sure to keep the robe closed. "Kneel on the edge of the bed facing the headboard." 

He watched as his lover's shoulders stiffened and there was that slight jut of his jaw that meant Aaron was debating on if he should comply. Aaron had control issues—hell, they _all_ did, but Aaron's were the deepest—so when he pulled off his undershirt and stepped out of his boxers (awkwardly, of course)… 

_Holy shit._ Spencer stared at the band of black leather around Aaron's half-hard cock and balls. It wasn't fastened tightly but clearly in position to be, ah, adjusted. The lust shot through Spencer's body and he fought the urge not to moan aloud. 

Aaron then shuffled over to the end of the bed, crawled on top, and stayed on his hands and knees. Interestingly, he kept his head down. Spencer moved to stand behind him, biting his lower lip as he saw the base of the purple butt plug flush against Aaron's ass. 

"Stroke yourself," Spencer told him and took a step closer. He was tempted to deliver a swift slap to Aaron's bare backside but refrained. Aaron had huge issues with spanking. He watched as Aaron worked himself, allowing a decent number of strokes before ordering, "Stop." 

Aaron stilled. 

"Adjust the ring so that it's tight." 

Spencer knew it had to be tricky from the way Aaron seemed to fumble a bit before gasping slightly and then placing both hands back on the bed. Their sex life was healthy, but it usually didn't involve role play or outright dominant/submissive. Right here, right now? Spencer wondered why they didn't do it more often. There was erotic, and then there was Aaron Hotchner on his knees with a butt plug and cock ring erotic. 

He wondered just how far he could push it. Spencer grinned devilishly as he turned and went into the master closet. The gun safe also contained a slim, vibrating dildo which he pulled out, turned on to see if the batteries still worked (they did), turned off and then slid into the pocket of his robe. He knew Aaron would be looking over his shoulder to find out what was going on. He schooled his features into his perfected poker face. 

Spencer exited the closet, closing the door behind him, and noted how Aaron hadn't been quite quick enough to turn around. Next, he went into the bathroom, closed the door, and quietly rooted through the cabinet for the spare bottle of lube. He dumped that into the pocket as well before exiting. 

"Eyes forward," Spencer ordered as he approached and the man complied. There was a certain headiness to having such a strong-willed man being so obedient. "No talking," he added. When Aaron nodded, Spencer's cocked throbbed, and it took a bit of willpower for him not to moan himself. 

He walked up behind Aaron, admiring the man's finely toned ass. The purple was a stark contrast to the paleness of Aaron's skin. Spencer mentally cycled through a few scenarios before settling on one that would get his point across and his questions answers. Oh, and them both satiated with the bonus of Aaron probably passed out from pleasure. 

Spencer caressed Aaron's backside lightly before tracing the edges of the plug. He gave it a slight tug and Aaron rocked back with it. He then placed one hand on Aaron's lower back, an unspoken signal not to move, and used the other to pull out the toy. Aaron let out a quiet moan as he held still. 

Spencer discarded the plug and then pulled out the dildo and lube. He applied some to the toy even though Aaron was pretty slicked up. The one thing Spencer knew about sex with a man: there can never be too much lube. Especially for what he had planned. 

Carefully, he spread Aaron's cheeks apart with one hand and placed the head of the dildo against his hole. Aaron stilled and Spencer knew it was taking a lot of willpower for Aaron _not_ to look back. Spencer wanted to say, 'Relax' but instead moved until his hand gripped Aaron's hip firmly. He then pushed the dildo in carefully and slowly. Aaron's body went still for a second and then suddenly relaxed. Spencer worked the toy in and out until he hit Aaron's prostate. Aaron jerked a little like he always did and Spencer couldn't help but grin wickedly. 

"Remember, no talking," he said and he could read the hesitation and wariness in the set of Aaron's shoulders. He tightened his hold on Aaron's hip and then switched the dildo on.  
Spencer knew for a fact that Aaron never had anything like that done to him before. It had been a long time for Spencer himself, but he remembered just what vibrations against the prostate did. He stroked himself before squeezing himself hard. The last thing he wanted to do was shoot his load before he fucked Aaron. 

Aaron's shout morphed into a loud whine-like moan; he grabbed some of the comforter, bent his head down, and stuffed the material in his mouth. Only then did Aaron let loose vocally, most of which sounded suspiciously like "Oh, God!" screamed into the makeshift gag. 

Spencer carefully reached around and grasped Aaron's hard cock, which leaked heavily. He smeared the pre-cum over the head before giving a few strong tugs. The sounds Aaron made came out as a desperately muffled, "Please." 

"You're right on the edge," Spencer whispered silkily, releasing Aaron's cock before tracing the shell of his ear. "You wanna cum so badly but you can't because you've agreed to do what I say." Aaron vigorously nodded. "_This_ is what it's been like for me. On edge. Wanting to scream to the world that I'm dating Aaron Hotchner. Wanting to stand next to you during Bureau functions. To be introduced as your lover. To hold your hand in front of everyone. To fall asleep next to you on the jet with my head in your lap. _This_ is what it feels like." 

Spencer stepped back, letting Aaron's hip go but brushing his fingers along the man's lower back. 

"Now imagine _that_ for six years." 

Aaron nodded again and there was a distinct string of "I'm sorry" pleas as his body began to shake and a fine sheen of sweat broke across his skin. Knowing that if he kept Aaron on edge much longer, the man may not be able to orgasm, Spencer turned the dildo off. Aaron slumped forward, his ass now higher in the air. He was whimpering. 

Spencer slid the dildo out, lubed himself up, took off his robe, and then positioned himself behind his lover. He pushed in with one swift movement, Aaron moaning and doing his best not to thrash too much. Spencer was thicker than either of the toys, but he knew that Aaron was stretched well enough to take it. Spencer then set a brutal pace, knowing that he wasn't going to last too long. 

He reached around and grasped Aaron's cock. "You can talk now," he said, but Aaron didn't let go of the comforter. Instead, the man's muffled shouts became louder and difficult to know if he was actually saying anything intelligible.  
Spencer found the buckle on the cock ring and then curled himself over Aaron's back, looping his other arm under Aaron's shoulder to hold him flush against him. He continued his relentless pace as he felt the orgasm build in his system. 

"Do you want to know what it felt like to kiss you in front of the Team, Tomlinson, and the entire Bureau?" Spencer asked but didn't give Aaron a chance to respond before he unsnapped the cock ring. 

Aaron screamed. His body shook hard. His dick jerked hard in Spencer's hand. His muscles tightened, triggering Spencer's own orgasm. Spencer pushed through it, wringing out every last feeling until Aaron unceremoniously collapsed beneath him. Spencer nearly lost his balance as he fell with Aaron against the bed. 

Aaron breathed harshly through his nose and Spencer had enough sense to reach up and pull out the cloth from Aaron's mouth. The last thing he ever wanted to explain was how his unit chief died of asphyxiation during dom/sub make-up sex. He eased himself out of Aaron's body and settled beside the man, fingers smoothing his lover's sweat-soaked hair. Spencer could feel the tremors racing through Aaron's body and watched in fascination as he panted heavily, as if he'd just ran a marathon at full tilt. 

Spencer blinked a few times, his own body thrumming from the powerful experience. He hadn't come that hard in quite a while. Still, his concern for Aaron, who still hadn't opened his eyes or made a sound, prompted him to roll on his side and quickly take the man's pulse. 

"Aaron?" he asked softly. No response. He then gently shook his lover's shoulder. "Aaron?"  
It took a few more shakes before Aaron finally let out a slow, "Mmm?" 

"Do you, ah, want to move up in the bed?" Spencer asked because they were half-hanging off the edge. 

"Can't… move… stay… here…" Aaron slurred as his breathing began to slow down and the fine tremors stopped. 

Spencer smiled to himself as he sat up, grabbed his discarded robe, and wiped himself off. He then shimmied up to the top of the bed and got under the covers. Sure, he was being somewhat cruel in leaving his lover a disheveled mess at the end of the bed, but he also knew that there was no way in hell he could move Aaron and the man wasn't too interested in, well, moving from the wet spot. 

He wondered if he'd ever be allowed to fuck Aaron like that again. 

_Six years_, he thought to himself. Yeah, Aaron would probably go for it again.


End file.
